Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Claire
The sun is bright as I pull into the small car park opposite Fairhaven surf club. Another beautiful early summer day. I sit there for a moment, trying to calm my nerves. This is fine. It’s just a swim. With a boy.
Who kissed me so thoroughly last night I can’t stop thinking about it.
Okay. I need to stop thinking about it. I’m half an hour early, unable to sleep once the sun woke me, so I’ve got time to get my head together.
My phone has been buzzing all morning as well; I’ve ignored it.
Simon can just get over it. Maybe seeing me with someone else will be the shock he needs to finally let me go.
I get out of the car, hoisting my canvas bag over my shoulder. I’m wearing my swimsuit under an Ocean’s Curl terry-towelling beach dress, courtesy of Anna. It’s warm and cosy, and I dig my hands in the pockets as I take the underpass beneath the Great Ocean Road, emerging on the beach side.
A breeze blows off the water, waves rolling in to shore.
There are a few surfers in the water, people walking along the beach.
I think about going for a walk as well, but I don’t want to miss Bryce.
I sit down instead. The sand is cool and silky against my bare legs, and I focus on my breathing again, the way the counsellor taught me.
The water is beautiful, blue and sparkling, the waves soft with foam.
I watch the surfers, admiring how smoothly they ride the swell, their boards carving lines in the deep blue.
Then I remember that I’m going to be swimming out there in a little while.
My breath gets shorter, panic curling in the base of my stomach.
It’s not that I can’t swim – I have a pool, after all – but I’m just not used to open water.
Simon wasn’t into the surf scene either, which was part of my initial attraction to him; he preferred coffee bars and late-night jam sessions to getting in the water.
My mood darkens at the thought of him and I close my eyes, willing my body to relax.
My mind immediately goes to the way Bryce’s mouth felt on mine.
How all of him felt pressed against me. My lips part, my pulse racing.
My god. The effect of a single kiss on me!
I’m anything but relaxed. Maybe this is a bad idea and I should go home.
I’m sure he won’t be bothered if I stand him up.
It’s not like he’s short of female attention.
Okay, so I might have googled Bryce last night before I went to sleep.
It wasn’t great, to be honest. Lots of gorgeous photos of him surfing in beautiful places.
But lots more of him partying, stumbling out of bars, wrapped around many, many different girls, including one shot of him with the two girls from the shop, obviously all in bed together.
I thought about standing him up then, to be honest. But then I remembered how kind he was, how he helped me with Simon then looked after me all evening, making sure I got home safe.
It had all seemed genuine, not some act.
The least I can do is meet up with him and thank him again.
I don’t have to see him after that if I don’t want to.
But my gut is still swirling. Maybe I should go home after all. These waters feel a bit too deep to swim in.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Shit. It’s Bryce.
I open my eyes, trying to look all Zen and meditative, not at all like I was panicking at the thought of seeing him.
But my god.
Difficult to look meditative when six foot two inches of muscled surfer clad in dripping wet black rubber is towering over me. He holds out his hand.
I take it.
He pulls me to my feet, so I almost bang into him. His hand comes to my waist, steadying me, and something flares briefly in his green eyes.
He grins. “Did I wake you?”
“Nope.” Again that feeling of defiance, like I need to push against him. “I was meditating, if you must know.”
“Meditating?” His sandy blond hair, darkened by the water, is pushed back from his gorgeous face, which is utterly distracting.
“Yeah. You might want to try it sometime.”
He laughs. “No need. The ocean is my meditation. Calms every worry I ever have.”
I start to ask what worries he could possibly have but there’s something in his expression, just for a moment: a flicker of darkness I recognise. I carry my own shadows, after all. Instead, I toss my head. “So. Looks like you’ve already had a swim. Shall we grab a coffee instead?”
“Nice try.” The grin is back again. “I’ve had a surf, not a swim. You sure you’re not chicken?”
I glance out at the waves and try not to gulp. “No. I’m fine. Ready when you are.”
He jerks his head towards the ocean. “Let’s go then.”
I pull my dress over my head, dropping it on top of my canvas bag. I fight the urge to cross my arms over myself, the white string bikini I’m wearing suddenly feeling a lot smaller than it did when I put it on this morning.
Bryce’s eyes widen for a moment, then his gaze drops over me, leisurely.
“What?” I lift my chin.
“Well, for starters, you’re going to be cold. And possibly naked in a few minutes, once we get past those waves.”
“Naked?” A mix of fear and excitement swirls through me.
“That flimsy thing is probably great for sunbathing, but not surf swimming. Come on.” He starts along the beach, beckoning me to follow.
I grab my stuff and follow along, part of me grateful we won’t be going for a swim, and part of me thinking about being naked in the water with Bryce. I stamp on that part of me. This is fine. We can have a coffee, I’ll thank him again, and we’ll go our separate ways.
Then I realise he’s stopped next to a pile of stuff on the beach. Clothes and a folded-up surfboard bag, next to a wet surfboard on its side in the sand. He’s rummaging in the board bag. “Here.” He holds something out to me.
I take it from him. It’s a rash top, silky soft fabric, emblazoned with the Ocean’s Curl logo. It smells of him – warmth and amber and sea salt.
“Chuck it on and we’ll go in. Can’t have you losing your bathers out there.” He winks at me.
Heat surges through me, along with fear. Damn. Looks like we’re swimming after all. I pull the rash vest on, then make sure the ties on my bikini bottoms have double knots. Bryce’s top is loose on me, which I’m kind of glad about.
Then he takes my hand.
I flinch.
“A deal is a deal, right? Let’s go.” He pulls me towards the water and I have no choice but to follow, the two of us jogging down the beach hand-in-hand like a couple of lovers.
The water is colder than I expected, and I squeal as he pulls me in deeper, rising onto my tiptoes as the waves break around my thighs. He laughs.
“Come on. Let’s get past all this. You know how to duck-dive, right?”
“Duck dive?”
He lets go of my hand and demonstrates, diving under the next wave that approaches, emerging with a toss of his head, light catching the spray of water he makes.
He’s completely beautiful, like a legend of a merman coming from the sea to entice girls into the surf.
Which is exactly what he’s doing to me. What the hell am I doing out here?
The water is deep enough. But he’s waiting.
So I take a deep breath and dive. Holy shit, it’s freezing. And, as the waves pull at my skimpy bikini bottom, I’m gladder than ever of Bryce’s rash vest. I surface, pushing my hair back and blinking salt-water out of my eyes.
“Nice work. Let’s keep going. Just be careful of the sandbanks though.” He points out a few areas of water which seem shallower.
“Uh, maybe I’ll just keep close to you.”
“I don’t mind that,” he says, his voice deeper.
My reaction is immediate. My nipples, already hard from the cold, tingle, and a pulse beats between my legs. He comes closer, staring into my eyes, his lips parting. I wonder if he’ll taste of salt when he kisses me again.
Then a wave smashes into us both, nearly knocking me over. He laughs and grabs my arm, then we’re diving again, letting the waves roll over us, heading for the blue water beyond. It’s exhilarating at first, the force of the water hitting me, Bryce’s seal-sleek form guiding me through the surf.
Then my feet lose the bottom, and I’m swimming.
The waves are no longer breaking. Instead, they seem to loom over me like walls of dark-blue water, lifting me and dropping me again.
I try not to panic, but I keep thinking about what could be swimming beneath me.
Ugh. This is why I don’t like deep water.
I look up but there’s no sign of the familiar red wings of the shark-spotting plane, doing its patrols along the coast.
“Hey, everything all right?”
Bryce swims up to me and, without thinking, I grab onto him, wrapping my arms and legs around him, burying my head in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. I can smell the rubber of his wetsuit, and he just feels so safe. After a moment his arms come around me.
“Claire, lift your head.”
I do as he asks. I’m too scared to feel embarrassed about hanging onto him like a limpet. His gorgeous face is close to mine, strands of wet hair clinging to his high cheekbones.
“Look at the shore,” he says. “We’re not too far out. We can go back in, if you want.”
He’s right. We’re only just behind the breakers. And the coast is beautiful, just as he said, the high headlands looming, seeming to fall into the blue water. I relax slightly.
“That’s it,” he says. “I won’t let go of you.”
I don’t want him to let go.